Faithful
by ttfan111robstar1
Summary: The laser hit him, and suddenly he was small and weak again. Now, in the hospital, Steve Rogers was sure he was going to die. But he did not get angry with God- because he knew now was the time to be more faithful than ever before. One-Shot. Rated T for death and religion.


**A/N: I own nothing. Lyrics in this chapter: "In Christ Alone" by Natalie Grant. **

He should have paid more attention.

He should have seen the laser- but he didn't.

In a flash of bright white light and searing pain, he was hit. Everything around him had been white- like he was living inside a bottle of bleach. It almost felt like he was flying out of his own body and just watching everything. Just like that it had suddenly stopped, and he'd fallen to his knees and collapsed face first into the ground.

The Avengers had been blinded by the bright white light when it had come. For a second they all shut their eyes and when they opened, Captain America was gone.

In his place stood the frail, skinny form of Steve Rogers, who promptly fell to his knees and keeled over into the dirt floor. Hulk was the first to react, smashing the laser to pieces before turning his attention to the man that fired it. The man's face had gone as white as his lab coat as Hulk began his typical merciless crusade. The others rushed to Steve.

Two men in black- they were assumed to be henchmen- were battering Steve, who was still semi-aware, into unconsciousness. A foot landed in his stomach, earning a grunt. A punch landed in his ribs, but he never backed away or backed down. He looked at them both with one black eye screwed shut, and said,

"I could do this all day."

two infuriated fists slammed into his ribs, vacuuming the air from his lungs and knocking him into the wall where he lost consciousness. Neither noticed the two assassins behind them who restrained them as Iron Man knocked them out with twin blasts from his hand. Thor had gone to eventually catch the Hulk and inform Bruce of what had happened.

"Tony," Natasha said quickly, "Get him to the hospital. Clint and I will clean this up."

Tony didn't have a response as he easily (It was all too easy and it made him cringe) picked up the fallen captain and flew him to the hospital. As soon as he arrived at the emergency entrance a gurney was flying to meet him. Iron Man was easily recognizable.

They rushed Steve to the ER, with Tony in hot pursuit, explaining the situation.

They had been called in when they'd heard scientist Malik Abbas had been trying to recreate the Super Soldier Serum, and seemed to be dangerously close to succeeding. Naturally, Steve had wanted to go. His morals were locked on it. They'd entered the hideaway only to find, not a high-tech lab as expected, but a warehouse with dirt floors and a section of various computers and two lasers. The henchmen, in classic fashion, had propelled into the warehouse at Abbas' command. Abbas himself was adamant on getting a DNA sample from Steve to make sure the genetic code was correct. Steve had battled his way through the seemingly endless sea of henchmen before he made his mistake. He had been using his shield to deflect a punch above him, paying attention to the goons attacking him, and not his exposed body. The doctor had taken advantage of Steve's momentary lapse in judgment, and took his chance. The laser would extract the Super Soldier Serum's unique signature from Steve's body and reveal the formula. Thankfully, Hulk had destroyed the laser (and possibly the Doctor) before the results could be processed.

Unfortunately, they didn't know how to reverse the effects, or how to help Steve.

Steve Rogers had always considered himself a pious man. Being in and out of the hospital as a kid had led him to seeing so many miracles. He just couldn't fathom how that would be possible without a God. He had been raised as a Catholic, and still practiced the faith, but had also acquired a taste for modern evangelical worship and messages. When he'd first woken up he hadn't known where to begin with adjusting, so he started by listening to modern worship music to ease himself in. To his surprise, he fell in love with it. It made him feel the connection with God that he had felt as a child, but had been numbed by the passing of his Momma. He still believed in God, but he didn't feel as close with him as he once had. He'd begun a tiny playlist on what Tony had told him was an "iPod" (The fact that the "I" wasn't capitalized drove him crazy, but Tony had promised it was correct- weird.) And had slowly expanded it.

Now, lying in his hospital bed, all he'd wanted was that music.

"Hospitals are the places that see the truest prayers." His Momma had once told him. He now understood what she'd meant. He hadn't stopped praying since he'd woken up. At first he'd been praying for the safety of his team and the serum, but once they'd all been in to visit him, his prayer had changed. Now, he was praying for God to give him the ability to relinquish his control. He desperately wanted to take the lead and control his health but he couldn't. It was in God's hands now. Now was the time to praise God for all the good that had been done, and to recognize that this was going to somehow make him stronger.

He had been told that he'd had surgery for internal hemorrhaging, and that all had gone well. He was laid up in bed with two broken ribs, a black eye, a concussion, and a broken leg.

What the doctors hadn't told him was that there was still a thirty percent chance that he wouldn't make it. The other Avengers had been informed, and fussed over him. Steve had spent much of his childhood defying the odds, they knew, but everyone was worried his luck would run out.

Steve had asked Tony to bring his iPod to the hospital today. Although Tony wouldn't have necessarily been his first choice for going into his room, Tony was the only one who understood technology. Despite not really having a liking for small errands, Tony took on the small task without complaint. Everything was just so serious right now- even he didn't have it in him to refuse the former Super Soldier.

Steve had spent most of the day awake. Upon waking, he'd rummaged around in the tiny nightstand by his bed to find just what he'd been looking for- a bible. He opened up to the story of Job, who had had everything near and dear to him taken away, and still continued to praise God throughout his suffering. In the end, God had multiplied everything he had by over ten times. It was almost prophetic that he'd opened to that particular book. He'd asked a nurse to use the phone and had asked a local Catholic Church if a priest might come and visit with him while he was in the hospital and was missing Mass. He was expected to arrive in an hour.

Tony had strolled in with a toned-down version of his usual arrogance, and had handed Steve the gadget and a tiny speaker he'd brought to go with it. Steve thanked him and gave him a grateful smile before scrolling down to find the playlist with all his favorite worship music. He pressed play, and listened as the first notes floated through the air above him. He shut his eyes and lost himself in the music and prayer, while Tony made his way out from the room.

As the hour quickly passed, the priest entered his hospital room. Father Donovan was a kind, white-haired man with gentle eyes and a soft smile. Steve had liked him instantly. The Father looked at him with peaceful eyes and began the Catholic rite of the Anointing of the Sick. Steve had listened and prayed and had made sure to respond when asked. He'd renewed his baptismal vows, and had confession before he was anointed with holy oil. He knew that this could very well be the last time he'd see a priest, and he had to make it count. When the rite had passed and he'd partaken in communion, the Father went off wishing him many blessings.

After The Father made his exit, Steve turned on the music again. He laid there in a state of prayer that wasn't quite conscious, but wasn't unconscious either. That was how the other Avengers found him three hours, mumbling the prayers of the lyrics he heard. They had all gathered around him, and were slightly taken aback by how at peace he seemed. He smiled when he felt their presence in the room.

The smile was quickly wiped off of his face when he felt a tearing sensation he couldn't explain.

The doctors had rushed in and immediately put him under with anesthesia. They'd taken him to emergency surgery and found that some of the stitches put in place to stop the hemorrhaging had burst without warning. They'd sewn him back up and set him back in his room, where his friends were waiting for him with concerned faces.

"He'll be alright." The doctor had said. Bruce had left almost immediately after in hopes of somehow finding a cure for this unknown and strange ailment, while the others stayed in the room with Steve.

When he'd first woken up, his thought

(Where's my Momma?)

was cloudy and distorted with the haze of anesthesia. When he'd tried to lift himself up, a sharpshooting pain in his ribs had cleared any fog in his mind.

(Oh no that hurts that's too much hurt)

He'd been brought swiftly back down to his pillow. It was now, he suddenly realized, that the end was near. The knowledge was undeniable to him now. He'd taken it into quiet acceptance.

The next two days were blurred by a fever-induced haze that had been a side effect of the stitches. Most of the time, Steve had been babbling gibberish and stuck in incoherency, but the others still made an effort to talk to him. It was around three in the afternoon when, with a thin sheen of sweat coating his body, he'd turned his head and reached out to something that wasn't there.

Then the seizure began. It couldn't have lasted for more than thirty seconds, but it was an eternity too long. The doctors had come and medicated him after the seizure had passed, and had turned him on his side. After a few minutes, Steve had begun to gasp. They were shallow, wheezing breaths that sounded forced and terrifying. The asthma was working hand in hand with the seizure, they realized. A faint look of coherency crossed his face, but it was only faint.

Steve understood that he was going to die.

It was simple. Easy. And he had accepted it just as easily now as when he'd had to when he was a child. His friends would go on without him. Life would go on. He'd be reunited with his friends that had already passed on. He was ready to go.

The final hallucination had been clear as day. Momma, Peggy, and Bucky were there, telling him to come with them and that he'd be safe. They had all smiled at him in that way that made him feel secure, and he'd taken a step toward them, not wanting to leave his team, but not able to go back.

His heart rate had dropped drastically, and the doctors rushed in with a defribillator. With lips that no longer felt like his, he spoke what he thought would be his last. The lyrics of his favorite song as a dying prayer upon his lips.

"In Christ alone my hope is found, he is my light, my strength, my song; this Cornerstone, this solid Ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm. What heights of love, what depths of peace, when fears are stilled, when strivings cease! My Comforter, my All in All, here in the love of Christ I stand. No guilt in life, no fear in death, This is the power of Christ in me; From life's first cry to final breath. Jesus commands my destiny. No power of hell, no scheme of man, can ever pluck me from His hand; Till He returns or calls me home, here in the power of Christ I'll stand."

He flatlined.

Suddenly, he was flying. There were angels surrounding him, taking him up, up, into the clouds. There was such a feeling of intense joy that he thought he could never explain it. He could still see his human body as doctors swarmed it and his team watched in horror. His soul was lifted up, and was standing in a long hall. His Momma and Peggy and Bucky were standing there, and hugging him. The angels went down the hall. He held onto them all, and didn't know for how long. Suddenly, the angels came back and told him sadly that it was not his time yet. He looked at his Momma and friends with sadness, but now knew that they were safe. The angels escorted him back to his body, and he tried to fit his soul into the small thing, but it was not an easy task. Bruce had returned with what he believed to be the antidote, and had poured it into his mouth. He gasped as his soul reconnected with his body and was transformed back into Captain America.

The Avengers were silent and horrified with grief as the doctors worked on Steve's limp body. It just wasn't _possible. _Captain America didn't die- but Steve Rogers could. It was terrifying to think that he was so human- but it was undeniable. The proof was laying right in front of them. The doctors had been working for five minutes when Bruce came in. He poured the odd mixture into Steve's slack-jawed mouth, and waited. A few seconds later, he gasped, and his heart rate spiked to one of a normal person. His muscles had returned to him, and the color was coming back to his face.

They all were happily shocked, and went over to their friend. There were many fond greetings and hugs, and a renewed sense of hope and wholeness in the team. The one thing that they all commented on was that Steve was so faithful. He hadn't feared death- he'd believed that God would take care of him, and he had been correct. His hours of prayer and song had not come to naught. He sobered at their words as the memory of Momma, Peggy, and Bucky came to him. He explained what had happened, and they had all watched him with somber eyes. The story should have seemed impossible, but the entire situation was so _real. _It was just undeniable.

As Steve sat there with his friends, he saw angels sitting by his bed. Peggy, Bucky, and Momma were all sitting around him, smiling. They were proud of him. He could be happy again- because he had seen them and knew they were okay. He felt a peace he hadn't felt since 1945- and it was God's peace, he knew. God had not failed him.

God was faithful to him, just as he was faithful to God.

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